Page 68 of Pocketful of Shame

"Fuck her."

My brows shot up, my poor heart leaping around in my chest. "But everyone at school said…" I let my words trail off, too embarrassed and, if I was being honest,relievedto say another word.

"Everyone at school has a big imagination," he replied, brows pinched together. "They were just rumors, Romi. It's bullshit. She's my rally girl – decorates my lockers and brings me cookies before a game –" he paused to hiccup before finishing, "That's all."

Yes!I hated myself for the tsunami of unadulterated joy that filled my chest, butJesus Christ, yes!He didn’t screw the queen bee. Since the start of senior year, Blaire had taken my spot on the cheer team and with my friends; taking pleasure from my suffering. She, along with some of my former friends, Lola and Shauna to be exact, had consistently tormented me and I knew she was the one responsible for the graffiti on my locker.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don’t spread my feelings around," he replied, eyes blinking open and locking on mine.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning exactly that."

"Well, I'm glad," I heard myself say, cheeks so hot you could fry eggs on them. "You deserve better than someone like her." I itched to ask him about the long list of other girls he'd been linked to in the school gossip mill, but I didn’t want to disrupt the peaceful status quo. "She's a bitch."

"I'm the bitch," he argued, pulling himself up on one elbow. "I could've stopped it. Could've stopped them all. I didn’t." Shaking his head, he pulled himself the rest of the way up and then stood. "And I ain't never gonna forgive myself for it."

"Where are you going?" I whispered, eyes locked on his back as he clumsily stepped over Presley's sleeping frame. "Sketch?"

"Night, Ro," was all he said, moving for the bathroom.

"Truth or dare?" I blurted out, losing my freaking mind as the thought of him leaving filled me with dread.

He paused in the bathroom doorway and turned back to look at me. "It's not your turn."

"I don’t care." Scrambling off the bed, I fell over Pres in my rush to get to him. "Truth or dare, Sketch?" I asked, breathless, when I reached him. Reaching around him, I pushed the door inwards and stepped closer, forcing him to back into the bathroom. When we were both inside, I slammed the door shut and kept walking him backwards until his back was to the wall. "Pick dare," I whispered, resting my hands on his hard stomach.

His nostrils flared as he stared down at me, eyes blazing with heat. "Dare."

"I dare you to make it up to me."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Romi, I –"

I dragged his face down to mine and kissed him hard before pulling back. "Make it up to me," I breathed, turning our bodies until I was the one pinned to the wall. "Make it right, Sketch."

"We're drunk," he slurred, eyeing me with wary excitement.

"We are," I agreed, hands moving up to rest on his shoulders. "And you owe me a dare." Losing all control over my hormones, I shoved on his shoulders, pushing him to the ground while my heart hammered violently in my chest. "You said you never back down from a dare," I whispered, eyes locked on his as he slowly sank to his knees in front of me. "I dare you to eat me."

"Fuck," he groaned, fingers digging into the fleshy part of my thighs before moving up to squeeze my ass. Burying his face in my crotch, he dragged in a deep breath before pressing a kiss to my panties. "Fuck, Ro, you wreck me."

Shaking his head softly, he pushed my t-shirt up and trailed his fingers over the hem of my cotton panties, fingertips teasing my skin with a featherlight touch before hooking into the waistband.

Never once taking his eyes off mine, he slowly peeled them down my legs before lifting each foot to free me. His gaze flicked to my injured knee and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the scarred skin, before taking my leg and hooking it over his shoulder.

"Tell me you're sorry," I moaned, eyelids fluttering when I felt his nose graze my bare flesh. "For kissing him and making me ache."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, lips burning a trail from my inner thigh to my slit. "For kissing him and making you ache." And then he was right there, spreading me open with his fingers and spearing me with his tongue.

"Sketch…" Cradling his head in my hands, I arched my hips, desperate to ease the throbbing ache building inside my core, as he pushed me closer with his lips and tongue. "God, I missed your mouth," I moaned, hips bucking wildly against his face. "Don’t stop."

A deep growl of approval tore from his chest as he lapped and suckled me. His teeth clamped softly onto my clit, dragging the tiny bundle of nerves into his mouth with a sharp tug before flattening his tongue over it, both soothing the sting and making me pulse harder.

When he slid a finger inside me, I clutched his hair and cried out, hips rocking into his face. I could hardly stand the pressure he was building in me. I was close. I could feel it in the way my body jolted violently. Every time he touched that tiny bundle of nerves or crooked his finger inside me, I drifted closer to the edge, reveling in the fucking fantastic way he ate pussy. A white-hot current ignited deep inside of me, growing hotter, burning brighter, luring me closer…

"Now, tellmeyou're sorry," Sketch growled, face buried between my legs. "For kissinghimand makingmeache."

---